~ CHAPTER V: DINING DIFFERENCES ~

Will regretted letting Hannibal choose the restaurant as soon as he drove them to one of the fanciest restaurants Will had ever seen in New Orleans, much less ever eaten at. No wonder Hannibal had sent him back to his room to put on nicer clothes — he was still woefully underdressed, despite having added a gray blazer and a tie to his outfit. Hannibal had swapped out his fancy zipper-sweater for a three-piece suit, and he was looking in his element once again. Will resented him slightly for it, the more so as his headache threatened to intensify again.

After a few minutes, a server showed them to their table, which looked like a much fancier version of booth seats at a diner. Another server brought them glasses of water and a small basket of French rolls and introduced himself before bowing out.

Will took a sip of water, opened the menu, and nearly had a heart attack — the appetizers were all over ten dollars, and most of the entrées were more than thirty dollars each. Of fucking course Hannibal would choose one of the priciest restaurants in New Orleans, he thought angrily. I could get quality gumbo for far less than this. He gave the menu a quick once-over before giving up and restricting himself to the appetizer section. Hell, the pan-seared scallop appetizer was twenty dollars by itself. Even the soups were over ten bucks. There was no way he was spending fifty dollars on one dinner.

As Will closed his menu, Hannibal looked up from his and smiled. "Do you know what you're getting?"

"Uh, yeah, I might get the sweet potato and poached oyster soup."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

"That's not enough for dinner. It's hardly an appetizer."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," Will snarked. "It's almost as if I was ordering off the appetizer section of the menu."

Hannibal folded his menu. "Forgive me, Will. I am merely concerned because you haven't eaten since I've seen you."

Will scowled. "I told you I wanted to go to sleep, didn't I? I'm not terribly hungry."

Actually, he was very hungry, not having eaten since the burger and fries at lunchtime, but the prices on the menu had clamped down on his appetite. As if he could read his mind, Hannibal said, "And yet your stomach was growling on the way over here."

"Are we eating dinner, Doctor Lecter, or are we back in therapy?" Will asked scathingly.

The corners of Hannibal's lips ticked up in amusement. "We are having a conversation, though dinner and therapy do not have to be mutually exclusive."

Will clenched his jaw and leaned back in his seat, looking away from Hannibal and across the restaurant. He didn't want to let out his anger and resentment in such a highbrow place, although a childish part of him was sorely tempted. He breathed in and out deeply to control himself.

"I don't need you to police my choice of nourishment," Will said slowly, turning back to Hannibal. "You're not my guardian...or even my official psychiatrist."

Will knew the jab had landed when silence followed his assertion. Hannibal scrutinized him, eyes dark in the dim of the restaurant, and Will met his gaze with defiance. Then Hannibal said,

"You are not the poor boy at the mercy of your father's whims anymore, Will. You don't have to starve yourself for lack of funds."

Anger crashed over Will like a wave of dirty seawater.

"Haven't you ever heard that it's extremely rude to comment on other people's wealth?" Will snapped. "Or are you too rich for that to have crossed your mind?"

"Will —"

"I live off a professor's salary with seven dogs, Hannibal, has that ever occurred to you? It's a matter of economy that I choose not to spend a fortune at restaurants that think it's okay to charge fifteen dollars for one appetizer!"

Hannibal opened his mouth and Will pointed an angry finger at him. "And don't even start with the 'it's on the FBI's dime' thing. You get a certain allowance a day and past that, it's all on you. You know that." Will leaned back in his seat, glaring at Hannibal. "If you're going to get upset at anyone over my nutritional health, this one's on you. You picked the restaurant."

Hannibal didn't point out that Will had only agreed to eat if he picked where they went. Instead, he unfolded his menu and said,

"Apologies, Will. That was rude of me."

Will clenched and unclenched his jaw. As the intensity of his anger began to recede, he felt even more tired than before. He scrubbed a hand across his face and wearily reopened his menu.

"IF I was going to order an entrée, it would probably be the gulf shrimp 'n' grits with bacon, or the applewood-smoked scallops with corn grits and mushrooms. But," Will added sharply, "they're both over twenty-five dollars, and then adding an appetizer and alcohol on top of that? That's highway robbery. No one in their right mind willingly pays fifty dollars for one meal. Rich or not."

The corners of Hannibal's eyes crinkled, but he didn't take the bait. They sat in silence until their server reappeared, where Will ordered a glass of red wine and the sweet potato and oyster soup. Hannibal ordered a much fancier wine, roasted duck breast with braised apples and walnuts, and the shrimp 'n' grits. Will cocked an eyebrow, but Hannibal merely looked back, his face neutral.

Sure enough, when the server came with the entrées and Will finished his soup, Hannibal moved the shrimp 'n' grits across the table to Will's side and dug into his roasted duck as if it was perfectly normal to insult a friend's wealth and then order food for them. Will didn't know whether to get angry, refuse to take it, thank him, or just eat it. When the thought of starting another argument made his head throb, he chose the latter and dug into the food without a word. It turned out to be some of the best shrimp and grits he'd ever eaten, although the price tag still made his chest ache a little.

Eventually, the server came by again and asked if they wanted dessert. Hannibal looked at Will inquiringly, but he shrugged insolently and leaned back in his seat, so Hannibal said, "The pumpkin cream cake, please, two forks."

Will pursed his lips but said nothing. Soon, the server brought them their cake slice. This time Will chose to savor it without thinking about the price tag — or looking at Hannibal, for that matter.

When they finished, the server came by and asked, "One check or separate?"

Will opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Hannibal said smoothly, "One, please."

"Hannibal!" It came out slightly louder than Will would have liked, and he tried to ignore the server's startled glance in his direction. "Don't," he said fiercely, lowering his voice. "I can pay for my own."

"Nonsense, I said I would take you to dinner, didn't I? It would be my pleasure."

Will gritted his teeth. "If this is yet more pity for the poor boy with his professor's salary, I don't want it."

Hannibal frowned slightly at him across the table. "I would never insult you with my pity. Consider it my treat." He turned to the server. "One, please."

The server nodded and disappeared, clearly not wanting to get in the middle of their spat.

"You know that even if the FBI grants you personal per diem for this trip, you won't be reimbursed for it until after we return, right?" Will said. "The process takes forever, you need to have copies of all your receipts, and they're only going to cover like sixty dollars per day."

Hannibal waved it away. "I chose a restaurant without consideration for what you would prefer. The least I can do is pay for our meal. Besides, you said it yourself, there is only so much that the FBI will cover, even for regular employees such as yourself. It would be unfair to expect you to foot the rest of your bill under these circumstances." Will opened his mouth to protest, but Hannibal added, "Courtesy, not pity, Will. It's not a problem at all. It's my pleasure."

Will slowly closed his mouth. It was clear that he'd lost the argument, since the server had already left to get the check, but he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, he was still a little angry at Hannibal for bringing him to an expensive restaurant and then calling him out for not ordering much. On the other hand, he was too tired to hold onto intense anger for too long, and a small part of him appreciated that Hannibal had decided to cover his meal and order him more food. Maybe that left him neutral.

The server came back with the check, Hannibal paid for their meal, and they got up to leave. It was past ten o'clock by the time Hannibal drove them back to the hotel. The desk clerk avoided looking at them as they came in, but Will couldn't care less at this point what was going through the damn old man's head. All he wanted was some more aspirin and a good night's sleep, and only the former was guaranteed.

"Good night, Will," Hannibal said when they reached their rooms.

Will grunted in response and closed his door louder than necessary. The end of this case couldn't come soon enough.